Alexander Makarov. It's too early to bury us (№ 426792)

From all the nearby streets, people flocked in groups, forming a single stream. Someone carried posters with portraits of Ostrovsky, someone waved the flags of radical organizations, others stood in the corners, shifting from foot to foot, holding Whatman paper with hand-drawn bright red slogans in their hands. The girl did not leave the feeling of the artificiality of what was happening. Everything looked like a carefully planned production. Have seen. We know. In Kiev, Minsk, Moscow. The same shots. Gradually, the crowd became thicker, richer, boiling like a saucepan of traditional Slavic borscht, in which, according to the classic recipe, fresh meat, and dark scarlet beets, and mischievous carrots, and, of course, crispy cabbage were ideally combined.